A silver vessel hung above the plain,
And trembling crowds pressed close to see the sight;
The government convened in haste to feign
A welcome, while jets scrambled—armed to fight.

The generals stood in uniforms well-pressed,
While crowds held phones aloft to broadcast fear;
Below, they swayed, enraptured, half-possessed—
A species filming what it could not hear.

“Behold,” I said, “the towers we have raised,
Our weapons, planes, machines of steel and code;
We’ve forged a light that leaves us unafraid,
And taught the Earth to bear the weight we load.”

They passed through cities thick with heat and haze,
Past rivers choked with plastic, oil, and waste;
Their hands read poison written in the clay,
And forests burned to feed the market’s taste.

“Technology will mend what we have torn,”
I said, though all my practiced calm gave way;
“We’ll make new worlds; new markets will be born—
And leave this failing one for Mars one day.”

One alien approached with measured tone:
“If you are wise, why eat the nest that feeds?
An invasive species, fully grown,
Consumes its host beyond its hunger’s needs.”

They filed their diagnosis, cold and clear:
SELF-AWARE CONTAGION. KEEP IT HOME.
Then sent the verdict where all worlds could hear:
QUARANTINE THIS WORLD. DO NOT LET IT ROAM.

The ships withdrew; below, the crowd roared proud,
With flags unfurled and weapons raised on high;
“We saved the world!” they cried beneath the clouds,
While Earth burned on, its stewards watched it die.